


Silence

by charlotteschaos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chan, Dark, Heroes to Villains, The Quidditch Pitch: Going Under
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-26
Updated: 2007-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-27 10:12:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10807017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlotteschaos/pseuds/charlotteschaos
Summary: AU: James/Harry No one would have ever suspected it of James Potter. Abuse/Chan





	Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: For cmere   


* * *

No one would have ever suspected it of James Potter. Maybe that's what made it so fucking sweet. Not the hero, James; the man who gave life to the Boy Who Lived. He was a model father, a pillar of the community, and a paragon of virtue. Only his friends and perhaps Snape really knew how he was; a risk taker, someone who liked to do things if only for the adrenaline rush.  
  
Now that Harry was getting older, now that he'd been off to Hogwarts, their encounters were fewer and further between. It just made James hungrier for them when they did happen. Lily was out for a book club meeting and Harry was alone in his room, playing video games like any ordinary teenager.  
  
He was hard the moment that Harry noticed him. It wasn't an obvious movement; Harry stilled and stared at the screen blankly before mastering himself and going back to maneuvering the plastic buttons of the controller. He knew he was alone with his father.  
  
"Harry..." James sauntered into the room and sat on the couch behind Harry. He began to rub his shoulders.  
  
"Not now. I'm playing a game." The back of his neck flushed. His discomfort slowed his reactions and his pixilated player on the screen fell to a dramatic death.  
  
Undeterred, James slithered from the couch to sitting just behind his son. He snaked his arms around Harry and nuzzled that bright red neck. "Not anymore."  
  
His breath was balmy over Harry's skin, making the flesh prickle. "No...." he whined. "Not now, later." It was a promise made in vain. They both knew that Lily would be back to protect Harry later. James wasn't buying his son's gambit.  
  
Mouthing his son's neck, he slid his tongue along the youthful hairline as he slid his fingers under Harry's baggy t-shirt. He felt the repulsed ripple of Harry's muscles attempting to recoil from his father's touch. But he didn't struggle. "Now."  
  
Again Harry whined, fading out into a whimper as his father unbuttoned his jeans. He remained frozen, gasping in arousal and horror as his father's fingers found his twitching cock. For a moment, he just stared at the screen, reflecting blue against his glasses. Then he turned to look at the curtains that blocked the midday sun.  
  
"You're such a good boy, aren't you, Harry?" James cooed.  
  
Harry nodded faintly, "Yes, I'm a good boy." His voice was monotone, devoid of feeling from repetition.  
  
"Do you want to show your father what a good boy you are?" James slid his other hand under Harry's pants, moving from the front to the back. He could feel the trembling in Harry's body as he directed his finger down to that soft, pliant hole. So tender and succulent. It wrapped around his finger invitingly, almost pulling at it. Harry needed him, needed this. He needed to be filled. James knew.  
  
Following the routine, Harry dropped the controller and pushed the console to the side. He rolled to his knees and grabbed his waistband and pushed them down, exposing his round arse. He barely had time to move to all fours when James was on him, burying his face in Harry's cheeks.  
  
James didn't just eat his arse; he devoured it, kissing and sucking between him until fixating on the pulsing hole; that tender gateway of flesh that James couldn't help but breech with his tongue. He dove it in, flicking it in and out, adoring how Harry couldn't control his whimpering. He loved the feel of Harry mashing himself wantonly against his face, and the shame... the way his son's body lit up in a scarlet blush and shining sweat.  
  
"Good boy, Harry. You know what would make you dad even happier?" James breathlessly unfastened himself, pulling out his proud cock. He nudged the tip of it over Harry's crack, watching the sticky clear fluid smear onto his son's skin, pulling away in thin trails still attached to his prick.  
  
Harry didn't speak, he simply balanced on his elbow with one hand, lowering his torso but keeping his arse and offering to his father. With his right hand, he stroked himself. He closed his eyes in shame, hiding them against his arm as he let out the first sob.  
  
"Shhh... shh, Harry. You're making your dad so proud of you. You want me to be proud, don't you?"  
  
In the midst of nodding, he felt the head of his father's cock violate him. He gasped and let out another choked cry.  
  
James pulled back, watching the hole close again, the skin going from stretched white to a livid red. "Harry," he commanded. His voice was stern, fatherly-- irrefutable.  
  
Harry pushed his arse up higher in response and tried to think about something else; something that would relax him. Anything other than this.  
  
This time, James pushed in steadily, feeding his cock to his son with as much care as savour. Harry was still so tight, almost tighter than before he'd started school, or so James believed. He grabbed Harry's hips. "Keep stroking yourself."  
  
Harry fondled himself faster, humiliated with the way his father filled him, the way the tip of his prick sought out that tingly spot inside of him. His father knew exactly where it was, and just how to hit it. He gasped and pushed against James.  
  
It was so dirty, so wrong to be filling his child with his fat cock. He looked down at the stretched skin. It was stressed again to whiteness, and that feeling. That immeasurable, exquisite feeling of Harry's body undulating around him-- petting him, stroking him, it drove James nearly mad.  
  
His nails dug into Harry's hips and he rocked him back and forth. Harry thought it was sawing him in half, tearing him down, making him sick with himself. He stroked himself faster, his stomach twisted in knots at the confusion of pleasure and mental anguish for what his father did to him; was doing to him now.  
  
Oh, the tentative strokes back. It told James that his son wanted it, needed it. He craved it, didn't he? As much as his father did. Shaking back his own ebony mane, James looked to the patterned ceiling before casting his eyes back on his son's sweaty, flexing back. Hair so like his own; Harry's body a smaller version. It felt so good, so right, Harry had to want it, too. He had to know that this was good for both of them. All at once James was chasing that feeling, that elusive last echoing shudder before he would come. It was close; he was so close.  
  
Harry rocked back against his father. The pressure on that spot inside of him was building, welling up as an irrefutable force, as his hand kneaded and pulled. He groaned, hearing his father's grunts, knowing he was close to orgasm by sound alone. He was sick with himself, sick for doing this for enjoying it even the tiniest bit.  
  
Hissing through his teeth, James let out a loud exhale as he flopped forward against Harry, spilling into him. His body fell with a wet-sounding splat on his son's back. He fumbled to reach for Harry's prick.  
  
But Harry hated it when his father touched his cock. He wanted as little touching as possible through their interactions, so he willed himself to come. His brows furrowed while his balls tightened. His expression was almost pained; mouth open, eyes squeezed shut as he felt the hard waves pass over him, shooting his seed onto the floor. He stayed up over it, stabilizing himself with his other hand to bear the weight of his father atop him.  
  
Silently, James pulled back and out of Harry. He sat back against the couch, enjoying the sight of his son's arse still up in the open like that. It dripped with his seed that slid out down Harry's thigh. He resisted the urge to lick it away; his one concession to Harry's wish to not be touched after it was over. Pulling his wand from his open pants, he charmed away the mess from the floor and his son's anus.  
  
After feeling the magic whisk away the remnants of his father's sins, Harry knew he was free to move again. He pulled his pants back up and closed them and sat down in the still warm spot he'd been sitting in, quietly dragging the game equipment back in front of him. Neither spoke a word while James righted himself and watched Harry play a few rounds of the game. Finally, James left the room.


End file.
